The Toilet Seat
by Archangels-Werewolf
Summary: The mice are heading back to Mars for a few weeks, but aren't sure how to break the news to Charley. Some literal "toilet humour" is in this story, so rated T to be safe.


I do not Own the Bikier Mice from Mars in any way. If i did, it would't be as good as the show we love. cheers.

*

The three mice rumbled along the road at a steady pace on their hogs. They were all going back to Mars for a couple of weeks and they hadn't told Charley yet. Riding at a pace that didn't annoy the cops, hopefully, would help them in what to say to her. Even Vinnie was at a loss for words.

Eventually, they reached the Last Chance Garage. They pulled up out the front, but the roller doors were shut, and there was a 'Closed' sign on the office window. The bros looked at each other, confused.

"That's strange," said Modo.

"It's Wednesday today," added Throttle.

"So she can't be having Monday-itis," finished Vinnie.

The boys dismounted their rides, and Vinnie tried the door. It was locked.

"Yeah, that's real smart Vincent. Trying to open a shop door while it's owner isn't available," said Throttle.

"Well, you would think she would have left it unlocked for the studliest mouse in the universe," retorted Vinnie, his hands on his hips, smirking.

"The only thing studly about you, bro, are those two little things in your left ear," came Modo's deep voice, as he lead the group around the office to try the back door.

After walking through an alleyway containing several dumpsters and weeds sprouting up through the paving, the guys arrived at the back door to the Garage. Throttle turned the handle, and the door opened.

"So, uh...how we gonna say this?" asked Modo.

"You guys think about it for a bit – I'm going to the bathroom," said Vinnie, departing in the direction of the toilet.

Throttle snorted. "Well, Charley-girl is pretty relaxed, maybe we should just say it. I mean, we knocked down Limburger's tower yesterday, so it's not like he's gonna be any trouble for at least a month."

"Yeah, and we'll be coming back soon too, its not like we're gonna be gone forever," added Modo.

"Maybe we should have gotten her something before we leave, like some flowers."

"Yeah, but what kind of flowers would Charley-ma'am like?"

The flush of a toilet could be heard and Vinnie walked out, waving his face in front of his face. "Phew! I think Charley needs to get her plumbing checked, that _reeks_ something bad!" he said.

Modo hit his bro over the head. "Vinnie, not so loud! What if she hears?"

"Well, I'd, uhh..."

Suddenly, the sound of someone heaving for breath upstairs interrupted Vinnie's next sentence.

"Quick, Charley's in trouble," yelled Throttle, and in a flash of grey, tan and white, all three mice were up the stairs. Modo kicked the door in and they dashed inside, weapons drawn.

If Charley was in trouble, she would certainly have been able to handle it herself. She looked up in fright at the door flying across her bedroom as if it had been blown up by a wad of C4 and the three Martian mice coming in with their laser pistols drawn and pointing in her direction. It was such a shock to her system that she started vomiting again into the quarter-full bucket she was holding. The mice promptly saw that Charley was alone and holstered their guns.

"Charley-ma'am, are you alright?" said Modo, the first to her bedside.

"No..." she said miserably.

"Did Karbunkle poison your water?" asked Throttle, seriously.

"I-I don't think so."

"Whoo! Charley-girl, ever heard of opening a window?" asked Vinnie, holding nose at the rancid odour that polluted her room. "This smells worse than..." He was cut off by a look from Charley that would have melted both the polar ice caps. Instantaneously.

"What do you guys want?" she asked, exasperated.

All three males in the room shifted uncomfortably before Modo spoke up.

"Well, we were coming to tell you something, but the place was closed, and we snuck in the back, and then we heard you sounding like you couldn't breath..."

"And we thought you were getting beat up by the bad guys," Vinnie said, taking over the story. "so we charged in here..."

"And...that's it," finished Throttle.

"Are you ok, Charley-ma'am?" asked Modo.

"I'm fine," Charley grumbled. "I've got gastro."

The three mice all made a dumb sounding "Huh?" sound at the same time.

"Gastroenteritis. It's a bug that makes you vomit and..." She sighed to herself, before an alarmed expression spread across her face. "Oh no, not again," she wailed. Quick as lightning, she leapt out of bed, still carrying the bucket she had just thrown up in, and dashed downstairs, hearing the toilet door slam behind her.

"Hmm, maybe its just a minor illness," said Modo.

"Minor? I thought Charley was over eighteen," said Vinnie.

"HEY!" Charley's voice echoed from downstairs.

The three mice went back downstairs and stood outside the bathroom door, not wanting to make the same mistake twice.

"Who was last in here?" Charley yelled.

Vinnie sauntered up outside the door, intending to use his charm to try and make her feel better. "That would be me, baby-doll. Do you need a hand in there, sweetheart?' he said, his eyebrows waggling at the door.

"Vincent! How many times have I told you about putting the damn toilet seat back down!?!?"

Vinnie's smile was instantly replaced with one of pure fear, his mouth and eyes becoming white with fright. Even his pink eyes drained color to a faint grey.

"I tell you, Van Wham, when I get my hands on you, you really will know the exact meaning of 'brown-nosing' as you clean this bowl _with your tongue!_"

If the mice could see it, they would have seen Charley stuck tight in the toilet bowl after she took a flying leap and not seeing the seat sitting upwards after Vinnie had been there merely seconds before. By the time she grunted and growled and finally pulled herself free, the mice were long gone in outer space on the way back to their home planet, intending to give the very cranky mechanic enough time to cool her heels a bit before they returned.

**T**

**H**

**END**


End file.
